


Suit up, dress down

by DeVereWinterton



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dinner, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e01 Death Defying Feats, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, union suit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeVereWinterton/pseuds/DeVereWinterton
Summary: Phryne had never considered a union suit to look attractive or appealing before, but on Jack Robinson… Then again, he was making her experience and feel a lot of firsts, so why should this have been any different?(I just wanted Jack to wear a union suit and make it hot.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so **I KNOW** I have said this before, but this time I am actually, really using these gifs as inspiration for this fic. Like really. 
> 
> EDIT; I tried to insert the link to the gifs, but they might have become too sexy for Tumblr because HTML coding says 'NO.' So if you want to see them, just copy/paste this link into your browser https://bit.ly/2OXnwez
> 
> At the end of episode _3.1 Death Defying Feats_ , Phrack were so ready for a second attempt at their dinner date and Henry is a bloody wanker who needs to disappear. Also, I didn’t want Phrack to go out into the world after 3.1 and damage what they had been building. So I 'fixed' it <3
> 
> (Don’t worry. I did not kill Henry. Even though there are arguments to be made here that would justify character death…)
> 
> Major kudos to Geenee27 for betaing this entire fic ❤️

 

_‘A well-tailored suit is to women what lingerie is to men.’ - Unknown_

(It doesn’t specify what _kind_ of suit, right?)

 

 

“To leopards changing their spots.” Henry Fisher finished his odd, forced toast. He was looking at Jack Robinson, who was standing next to him in his daughter’s parlour.

Jack Robinson, in turn, looked terribly wrong-footed, but made a decent attempt to cover this up for the sake of politeness and propriety. Phryne knew him better than that. She could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to piece together what she had told him about her father during their long-standing acquaintance. He was no doubt trying to combine this knowledge with his own observations of the man. And the questions, _oh_ , she could almost see the words forming on his lips.

He was suspicious. She had been on the receiving end of that look far too many times. She knew it intimately. That small twitch of his brow, the slight narrowing of his eyes. The slow turn of his head so he could look at her, as if he could find the answers to all of his questions written out on her face.

She raised her own crystal glass.

“And… to miracles,” she ground out. She grimaced sardonically, then downed her glass of sherry in one go. The alcohol burned a path down her throat and for a moment, she closed her eyes, savouring the bitter but welcome, warm distraction it provided. She could feel Jack’s eyes on her, could sense his concern for her well-being, but the embarrassment that was her father made it difficult for her to face Jack right now.

Phryne seriously doubted… no. _No_. She had absolutely _no doubt_ that her father hadn’t changed at all. Even his spots were the same colour, had the same shape, the very same pattern. He was still the same conniving, calculating, crude bastard he’d always been. She, however, _had_ changed.

She’d been quite young when she came to realise that her father was an utter wastrel. He had never been there for her, Janey, or her mother, and when Phryne reached adulthood she came to the decision that she did not need him. She did not _want_ him to be a part of her life anymore. She’d wanted him gone, and when her mother didn’t send him away, she’d left for France. Well, naturally there had been other reasons, one being that she’d wanted to _help_ , do _something_ , but Henry had certainly been part of the reason why she’d left hearth and home.

She hadn’t needed him then, and she certainly did not need him around now. Especially not tonight. It was one thing for Henry to show up on her doorstep unannounced, but she’d desperately tried to keep Jack away from her failure of a father, only for said father to drag Jack into his messes himself.

She wouldn't stand for it. Henry had ruined her life on far too many occasions, but she would not allow him to ruin Jack for her. She felt fiercely protective and possessive all of a sudden. Jack wasn’t hers, and she knew he could fend for himself. She was also fairly certain that Jack would see through the ruse of the plastered-on smiles, over-exaggerated kindness and false flattery. But still…

Her father had already ruined her first attempt at an intimate, candlelit dinner with Jack. She was not about to let it happen a second time.

About a month ago, when Jack had knocked on her door rather late (or had it just been very early?), she had sensed he was in emotional turmoil. She knew her life had been in danger, and realised shortly after that he’d been worried sick. On top of that, he’d had to deal with his ex-wife’s mental breakdown. He’d felt raw, almost exposed, and even though she had longed for his kiss, almost desperately, it might have been a good thing that her Aunt Prudence had interrupted them. He’d been close to ready… but not quite yet.

At her Christmas in July celebration, she’d noticed that something had shifted between them. Something had clicked into place. After almost losing one another at the hands of Nicholas Mortimer, she’d suddenly felt closer to him than ever before. And not just physically. There was an undeniable attraction between the two of them that went far beyond the physical. Jack challenged her intellectually, often confused her emotionally and stimulated her mentally.

And when he’d mentioned the _genus viscum_ … He might as well have taken her right there, for all the good it had done to her knickers.

Recently, it felt as though they had finally arrived at the same page… Well, they were opening the same book, at least, and that was a very good place to start. They could write their own stories and fill the pages with their own unique adventures.

Phryne had invited him for dinner, and the happiness that had filled her heart when he’d accepted was almost ridiculous. She’d chastised herself, but the truth was that she really wanted to see where ‘it’ would go. Whatever ‘it’ was that existed between herself and Jack Robinson. Maybe it was indefinable, much like the two of them? But it was certainly interesting. Thrilling. Profound. Exciting. Arousing.

When she’d opened the door to find her father on the porch, rather than the handsome Inspector, it had felt like a punch to the gut. She’d known immediately that she was going to have to cancel dinner with Jack, if only so she could try and get rid of her father as soon as possible. She had hoped to salvage the evening. But then Jack, poor Jack… he’d been so hurt - she’d seen it in his eyes as he addressed her at the crime scene - and far too assuming for his own good. 

There had been the ever present tension between them, and she had been unable to resist reaching out to him.

_“Is that an invitation?”_

_“Well, I could wait all day for yours.”_

And lastly, that speech. It had been… memorable. Mostly because Jack hardly ever spoke to her about his feelings, and here he had been, just pouring them out like the drinks he’d been served all night in her absence. It had stung a little, to hear him talk about the men she’d dated or had taken home after a night out on the town. In a strange kind of way, it had warmed her heart to know that he’d cared so much, he’d kept score of her ‘parade.’

Truth of the matter was, she had not slept with a man in months now. It had become messy, her emotions had somehow gotten in the way and perhaps foolishly - because they’d always been so in tune to one another - she’d assumed he knew.

He’d been upset, and she had so many questions, but then her father’s nerve-tonic had ‘assaulted’ him and they had put him in her bed.

But underneath the anger, and the confusion, there had been a longing and dare she say, lust? It had been enough for her, had given her hope despite everything, and after they had wrapped up the case, she’d extended a second dinner invitation to him.

He’d accepted without hesitation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a multiple chapter fic, and I did actually finish the chapters before I started posting because I learned from what happened to that *cough* other fic. I will try to update every 2-3 days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind response to the first chapter of this fic! So here's chapter 2, because I have zero discipline. I neglected to mention that the chapter length will vary, because I wrote the chapters as scenes.

 

As Phryne swallowed the last bit of her sherry, she opened her eyes. The parlour doors opened behind her.

“Dinner is served, Miss,” came the polite, warm voice of Mr. Butler. 

Phryne sighed, then turned to Jack who set down his own glass. He offered her his arm. She could have smiled with glee at the way he ignored Henry’s presence entirely in that moment, but decided against it. She figured her eyes would convey her immense gratitude. His eyes were warm but so blue as he gazed fondly at her, and for a moment she forgot who and where she was. 

“Ah, wonderful!” Henry exclaimed, breaking the moment by placing his glass on the coffee table with a force that made Jack wince beside her. As her father momentarily observed them, the happiness in Phryne's eyes was replaced by a fierceness, daring him to comment on their appearance of intimate familiarity.

She could feel Jack’s fingers, gently stroking her arm with his free hand, and she realised her body had been tense ever since her father had arrived that evening. He really was a marvellous man, her Inspector, reassuring her with the softest of touches when she hadn’t even known she needed it. 

Henry merely shook his head lightly. “Well, if you’ll excuse me for just a minute, I will join you shortly,” he announced, then turned on his heel and left the parlour. 

This time, Jack was the one who tensed and Phryne’s body echoed the sentiment. 

Frankly - and quite rightfully - she did not care where her father had wandered off to. It could have been to use the lavatory, or to lay down in the garden and die. She assumed it was probably the former, but couldn't help but hope he would just walk out of her life and never come back.

Suddenly, she inhaled sharply as a rather brilliant idea struck her like a lightning bolt. 

If she wanted Jack all to herself - and Lord knew she did, she had been waiting  _ forever _ \- this would likely be her only chance to escape. It almost felt like a coward’s way out, but then again… there was no way she was going to subject Jack to an excruciatingly awkward dinner with her father. Not when there were so many options they could be exploring.

Together.

And preferably with less clothes on.

Jack had noticed the quickening of her breathing, the widening of her eyes. Of course he had, darling man. “Miss Fisher?”

“Jack. I want you to come with me. Right now. We have to hurry,” she told him in clipped, hushed tones, already pulling him along with her.

Even though she was often two steps ahead, Jack seemed to catch on immediately. She could have imagined the brief, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but she liked to think he was just as excited by the prospect of getting away from her father as she was. And possibly, by finally having their dinner together. 

She all but dragged him out of her parlour and into the hallway, feeling like a naughty girl indeed. She was, however, surprised to find Mr. Butler, already standing there with their coats and Jack's fedora. Why she was surprised, she had no idea. There was plenty of evidence that would suggest the man was omniscient, and apparently tonight was no exception. 

“I thought you might require these, Miss, Inspector. I believe there will be a bit of rain, later tonight.” For all his professionalism, there was a small smirk on the man’s face and Phryne loved him dearly for it. 

“Mr. B, you are a treasure,” Phryne said quietly as she put on her coat as quickly as possible. She thought she heard a sound coming from down the hall and paused, hesitating.

“Come along, Miss Fisher, don’t dawdle,” Jack whispered, a gentle hand on her back.

Phryne stopped short to give him a brief, open-mouthed look that was equal parts surprise and approval. The fact that he was helping her to get away from her father instead of dissuading her… She'd thought it impossible to fall in love with him even more. Until now. 

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this is so fluffy. *shrugs*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet ❤️

 

As Jack quickly started his car, the engine roared to life. Next to him, Phryne breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He couldn't help but feel like he was a teenager again, sneaking out of his parents’ house to meet up with the girl next door. (Jack had never been kissed at the ripe old age of thirteen, and Mavis had been known to be ‘willing for a shilling.’)

“Is it safe to assume that you planned our escape, Miss Fisher?” he asked as he turned the car onto the main road.

“Jack!” she gasped, affronted. “I do not _plan_. I _scheme_.”

He chuckled.

“Though I must admit, this was merely a rather fortunate turn of events.”

Jack turned right, following her directions, and stifled a laugh as a feeling of light-hearted giddiness came over him.

“But I will happily accept responsibility for all of it,” she stated tartly.

Jack laughed, not bothering to hide his amusement as he stepped on the gas with a bit more enthusiasm than was his custom. In his humble excitement, he missed the adoring and absolutely smitten look Phryne gave him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little palate cleanser?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phrack managed to avoid dinner with Phryne's father, and now they're on their way to... where, exactly?

 

Jack didn’t think this was the first time Phryne Fisher had used a police motorcar to plan her escape, although it was quite possibly the first time she’d done so while being in the front seat.

He’d sensed her discomfort the second he stepped into the parlour. The presence of her father had surprised him, but Phryne was surrounded by an aura of irritation and vexation that was almost palpable. Jack had realised almost instantly that Henry Fisher had definitely _not_ been part of her plans for the evening.

Jack did not know a lot about the relationship between Phryne and her father, but he felt no need to press her for information. He himself hardly ever divulged any stories about his family, and if she did not wish to talk about her relatives, that was her right. However, while working on the case of Murdoch Foyle, small things had come up. And not too long ago, she’d outright told him her father used to lock her in a closet when she was a child. He’d joked about it to lighten the mood, but it was still a rather serious matter. Jack could remember being at odds with his father when he was a child, but his father had never locked him up, not even in his own room.

When Henry had proposed a toast, Jack found it a bit odd that the Baron only mentioned Phryne third. Firstly, he’d toasted to magic and mermaids - no doubt referring to his own business and hoping it would be a successful investment from here on out. Henry had smiled, but Jack sensed the awkward tension in the room. It had been stifling. After he’d mentioned mermaids, it seemed Henry suddenly realised that Phryne was actually in the room with them, and had toasted to ‘his wonderful daughter.’

Jack guessed the history shared between Phryne and her father wasn’t one filled with warmth, love and compassion. She had looked… as if she was losing control of the situation, and it had unnerved him. Phryne Fisher was a woman who was _always_ in control, especially in her own home, where she reigned like a true, kind-hearted queen of the people. Tonight, however, her behaviour had been off.

She appeared to have been… ashamed? Mortified? He wondered if she had intended to keep Henry Fisher away from him. Was that the reason why she had not told him about her father, when she’d cancelled their first attempt at dinner?

He knew he’d jumped to conclusions when she’d rang him at the Station. He’d assumed she’d passed on him for a more handsome, exciting and unexpected male guest, who’d appeared at her doorstep. It had hurt a lot more than he’d been willing to admit to himself, or to her, and he’d lashed out because of his jealousy.

Jack Robinson was a lot of things, but a fool he was not. He knew he was in love with Phryne Fisher, and had been in love with her for a long time. He'd probably started falling in love with her shortly after he had made her acquaintance. He had to concede; he might be a fool after all. A lovesick fool. So much so that it sometimes clouded his judgement. But he did not want her to change. Because no matter how much she upended his life - with her tireless curiosity, her complete disregard for the speed limit and other dangers, and her poking her nose into places it didn’t belong - he also loved her for those things. She had so much passion, so much drive, such an ingrained sense of justice… and she was just so _alive_ that he felt a little bit more like himself every time she was with him.

Her love of life was contagious. She never did things by halves. And even though he sometimes wished she would think things through before jumping headfirst into a dangerous situation, it was also so much like her that he couldn’t fault her for it. Not really. He’d struggled with this in the past; loving someone who was just so willing to fight for what she believed was right, who would sometimes stare death in the face, all in the line of duty, and would not back down.

During their time apart, he’d come to realise he still loved her, and would always love her. A large portion of his fear had come down to the fact that she was so much like him in a lot of ways, it had scared him and had sent him running.

When she’d invited him for dinner the first time, he’d wondered about her motivation to do so. Jack felt as though they had come to some sort of unspoken, mutual understanding in regards to their feelings. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he knew something was different between them. He’d seen it in the way she would look at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Had felt it in the way her breathing had quickened when he’d placed an inconspicuous hand on her lower back during her Christmas celebration. Had heard it in the way her voice had caught when she’d proclaimed her kisses couldn’t be compelled by mistletoe.

When he’d mentioned the Latin term, her pupils had dilated infinitesimally and it had taken all of his coveted self-control to stop himself from kissing her - and rather scandalously, too - in front of her friends and family.

He would have kissed her even before that evening, when he’d come so close to losing her to the men he’d thought he could trust. When he’d arrived at Wardlow late that night, she’d looked more beautiful and radiant than ever, her face scrubbed clean of her customary make-up. His fingers had itched in her presence. He’d wanted to find out, desperately, if she had been wearing anything under that black satin robe. If it hadn’t been for Prudence Stanley, Jack was willing to bet Phryne would have let him.

And so, tonight Jack had arrived with romantic intentions.

He had spotted the five burning candles at the dinner table - much to his relief - and could only assume the Baron had, once again, thwarted their dinner plans. Much to Phryne's obvious chagrin that she'd made no effort to hide from him. But even if she had, Jack liked to think he knew her well enough by now to recognise her tells. That slight huff of breath. The tilt of her chin, just _so_. (In the case of her Aunt Prudence; the sometimes blatant rolling of her eyes.) The barely visible pursing of her lips that might go unnoticed by the untrained eye. But Jack had trained eyes, and far too often had they been observing Phryne Fisher and her mannerisms.

_And not just her mannerisms…_

The woman was an absolute vision and Jack would be lying if he claimed the mere scent of her perfume hadn’t sent his mind and body reeling once or twice. Or fifty times. Lately, it felt as though he was in a near-constant state of arousal whenever he was around her, and only his ingrained notion of nobility had stopped him from touching her the way he desired to.

Tonight’s dress was black, and had a rather demure neckline. But there was just a hint of decolletage that had been teasing him ever since he’d arrived. The dress had a sheer black overlay with intricate golden, almost green floral embroidery. There was a flower brooch just above her left hip, and he wondered what would happen if she were to remove it. Would the top layer of the dress fall away, would it pool at her feet to show more of her alabaster skin? He found himself contemplating if there would be buttons, or rows and rows of hooks and eyes that he would barely have the patience to undo.

As he parked his car, he chastised himself for his train of thought. They were going out to dinner. It would be wrong of him to expect anything more than that. Jack was very much aware that this, for all intents and purposes, was their first ‘date’. It was a bit odd, considering he already felt connected to Phryne on a deep, emotional level that was more intricate, but also far more intense than it had ever been with Rosie.

Looking out the window, he realised he knew this area of Melbourne well. Because of the busy night, he’d had to park a little further down the street, but he knew where she’d brought him.

“Miss Fisher,” he sighed. “This is the Windsor.”

“Why, yes it is, Jack! A very astute observation, if I may say so,” she teased. Before he could open his mouth to admonish her, she beat him to it. “And if you were about to tell me that this is too much; it is not, and I’m _ordering_ you to enjoy this meal. The gratin is not as good as Mr. Butler’s, but it’s a very close second.”

“Fine,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth quirked upwards because of her cheek. The prospect of a delicious meal might have had something to do with it, as well.

Phryne considered it a victory, just because of that small smile of his that tugged at her heartstrings.

Jack offered her his arm again as she stepped out of the vehicle, and she took it, wrapping her hand around his biceps. She gave him a fond smile and for a second he forgot what breathing meant, or why he needed oxygen at all. When a drop of rain hit her nose, she scrunched it up adorably, and they turned their eyes towards the sky.

The rain started coming down, so they quickly walked up the stairs towards the entrance of the hotel.

“Well, some might say this downpour is a bit ironic after today’s events,” Phryne quipped as they found shelter near the entrance. “Wouldn’t you say so, Inspector?”

Jack pulled her slightly to the side, his hand gently resting on her black fur coat.

_Why was she so warm?_

“Phryne,” he started, and he noticed she shivered slightly when he said her name. Her ruby red lips parted ever so sweetly and for the umpteenth time in his life since knowing Phryne Fisher, he forgot all about nobility or propriety. Surely, the doorman wouldn’t mind if he just…? No. _No._

“Yes, Jack?”

He coughed, and she smirked far too knowingly. “I just wanted to make sure you are okay,” he finished lamely, feeling terribly lacking and deflated all of a sudden.

He startled when she placed a cold, clammy hand on his burning cheek, but he forced himself to calm down. He fought the impulse to shy away from her touch, unaccustomed to such a public display of affection.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she asked softly, and Jack nodded slowly. “With you.”

“So you are, indeed.” Jack swallowed, realising that the lump in his throat wasn’t actually a lump, but his heart that was threatening to burst.

They only broke eye-contact because an elderly couple had come up the stairs behind them, and they realised they were effectively blocking the entrance. Sharing a smile, they went inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL TEH FLUFF, apparently. I don't even know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed one day of posting due to real life getting in the way. So here is a less fluffy chapter, to compensate. Bon appétit!

 

Jack wasn’t a fan of these kinds of establishments. The richly decorated, pretentious environment reminded him of the things he would most likely never be able to afford. Before he’d met Phryne, it would not have bothered him, because he would not have visited a place like the Windsor. But now that he knew her, and knew of her exquisite taste… Jack was aware that she would never allow him to pay for their dinner, but he was still a traditional man, after all.

Maybe someday he could take her to his favourite Italian restaurant? It was nothing like the places she’d frequented, of that he was sure. But it was a charming little spot, and Jack suspected the Collingwood girl that still lived inside of the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher would surely know how to appreciate a well-cooked pasta dish and an exquisite vino.

The Windsor's restaurant was busy, and booked to capacity by the looks of it. Jack wasn’t sure how she’d managed to get them a table this last minute, but then again… she worked in mysterious ways. She also was ridiculously wealthy and he assumed she had an account here. Maybe even a regular table. And probably a suite.

He blushed slightly at the possibility of her owning a room here. With a bed. Probably a large bed. With soft sheets… perhaps room service?

So far, dinner had been a very nice affair. They talked, and conversation flowed easily between them. Jack had half expected to be on the receiving end of amused sidelong looks, or heated glances, but instead… nothing.

He felt terribly on edge.

He had already made it through an entree of oysters - rather nasty, slimy little things, though not as bad as the _escargots_ \- unscathed. He knew oysters were considered an aphrodisiac, but Phryne had not said a word. She’d eaten them up in a flash, then asked the waiter for a bottle of _Veuve Clicquot._

There was just no way in _hell_ that Jack Robinson could be this lucky in the presence of Phryne Fisher. And certainly not in public. To put it plainly; he was waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

The main course had been served - lamb, with sides such as a gratin (she'd been correct - Mr. Butler's gratin remained unrivalled), baby carrots… and asparagus in a butter sauce. Mortified, he’d felt his cock twitch in quiet anticipation and for a second he wondered if she was projecting these thoughts into his mind. When she flashed him a brilliant smile, her cheeks rosy due to the heat in the restaurant, his body started to loosen. (The champagne could have had something to do with it, as well.)

They were enjoying a lovely dinner together, without interruptions. The food was divine, and he was in the company of the woman he was deeply in love with.

He had accused her of having a ‘constant parade of men’ and here he was, hoping he would soon find himself between the cool sheets of her bed, their sweaty bodies entangled, her breasts...

He was about to shake his head at his own foolishness.

And then dessert was served.

Jack figured God must have had a particularly cruel sense of humour to serve them pavlova with warm cherries and a sticky sauce.

Phryne almost squealed with delight when she saw what was on her plate. Jack, meanwhile, was praying to whatever deity was listening that he would be allowed to leave the restaurant with his dignity still in tact.

Surprisingly, however, Phryne ate her dessert almost in quiet contemplation.

It made no difference to Jack.

He was still utterly captivated by the movements of her red-slicked mouth. The way the ripe berry juice stuck to her lips. The syrupy sauce…

One drop ran down her chin and she caught it with her tongue.

Jack stopped breathing.

When she raised her eyes to his, they were hooded as she deliberately traced her lips, her tongue sneaking out to catch every last bit of the sauce.

Jack could feel himself harden and suddenly hoped she _did_ have a room here, because they would soon need it. His moral compass was fighting his body’s natural responses, and he was feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

“Jack?”

His eyes snapped up.

“Breathe,” she whispered, and he did.

Phryne - feigning innocence, as he was by now sure she had nefarious plans to ruin his resolve, and possibly his life - popped the final cherry on her plate into her mouth without finesse. Jack was fairly certain it had only been there for decorative purposes, because the stem had not been removed by the chef.

He could tell she was moving her tongue around a lot, and his cock throbbed. Mesmerized, he watched with rapt attention - his own half-eaten dessert all but forgotten - as she slowly stuck her tongue out at him. He was about to reprimand her with a scowl when he noticed the stem on the tip of her tongue.

It had been tied in a knot, and Jack felt all of his blood rush southwards.

She smirked triumphantly when she dabbed her mouth with her napkin, and Jack resisted the urge to groan.

When she excused herself and left the table, Jack couldn’t have been more grateful.

His erection was pushing almost painfully against his trouser fastenings.

He wondered if people would look at him funny if he were to dump the ice cold contents of the champagne cooler into his lap.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After dinner, Phryne needs some fresh air...

 

As Phryne walked out of the dining room and headed into the direction of the reception desk, she wondered if a quick visit to the powder room was in order. The real reason why she’d left the table just now was because she had started noticing that the people coming into the hotel were looking like drowned rats. As curiosity was her stock and trade, she wanted to know what was going on.

But her little stunt - teasing Jack over dessert - was what had tipped the scale. She was feeling quite hot and bothered all of sudden and wondered if a bit of fresh air would do her good. The way he had responded so deliciously to her taunts - even forgetting about his own food! - had set her heart racing. His eyes had darkened, focused as they’d been on her mouth and _dear God_ she wanted him.

Approaching the reception with the usual sway of her hips, she resisted the urge to rub her thighs together to appease the ache she felt. She really should have gone to the powder room instead, to take the edge off…

Distracted by the sound of water, she looked out of one of the windows next to the entrance. Phryne had seen rain before, obviously, but this? This was _rain_. People were coming into the hotel lobby looking for shelter, their coats soaking wet, and there was quite a crowd gathered around the reception desk.

Now, Phryne Fisher was not what one might consider, in the widest possible terms, a patient woman. But she was not rude, either, and so she waited for her turn as people in front of her booked rooms. From the conversations around her, she could make out that the streets were actually flooded. The sewers were unable to cope with the amount of water that was coming down and apparently motor vehicles were now useless, their tires stuck in the water. Most dinner guests and regulars were booking a room for the evening, as leaving the hotel was not really an option at the moment.

Phryne pursed her lips. _Yes_ , she wanted to share a room with Jack Robinson and _yes_ , she wanted to make love to Jack Robinson. And she wanted these things to happen sooner than later. However, she worried about how he’d feel about all of this. Possibly being forced to share a room with her, or staying at the same hotel… it could speed things up, but could also end in another night of frustration and pent up arousal. Things had been progressing steadily between them, but there had also been an almost organic rhythm to their game. She wasn’t sure how this would affect things between them.

She looked up to see her favourite receptionist smiling back at her as she (finally) made it to the front of the queue.

“Ah, Guillaume! How lovely to see you,” she greeted the young man. Guillaume was a gorgeous male specimen, piercing green eyes, wavy dark blonde hair, full lips. She happened to know his partner -  beautiful man, dark hair, blue eyes. They were such a handsome couple, it was almost rude.

“Mademoiselle Fishère! ‘Ow lovely it is, indeed. Can I ‘elp you with anything?,” he asked politely with his customary enthusiasm. In the beginning, he had spoken to Phryne in French, but after a while he’d told her he wanted to practice his English. And to be honest, he was coming along quite nicely.

She explained her current predicament, and he nodded.

“Yeees, people ‘ave been booking rooms for the past hour. It ‘as been - _comment vous dites?_ \- a mad’ouse?”

Phryne smiled in understanding and sympathy as Guillaume checked the registers.

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Fishère, but we only ‘ave one room left on the _deuxième étage_. It’s not your usual suite, Mademoiselle, but maybe...”

“I’ll take it, Guillaume,” she said. The second floor rooms still had an en suite, and she believed even Jack had to prefer sleeping in a bed over freezing on the floor.

Then again, he was a very stubborn man…

“ _Magnifique_! Breakfast will be served from 7am until 9am. If you prefer room service, just call the reception desk, Mademoiselle,” the receptionist informed her as he handed her the key.

With a “Merci, mon chéri!” Phryne headed in the direction of the lounge.

She smirked to herself.

If all went well, she really hoped they wouldn’t make it to breakfast at all.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote the lovely RositaLG: _'Oooh, I cannot wait to see what Jack thinks about this...'_ Brilliant minds, eh? ;)

 

After Phryne had left Jack sitting alone at their table, the waiter had come by to take the empty plates. He’d waited, but once he’d gotten his body under control again after her little performance with that cherry stem, he got up from the table and had wandered into the nearby lounge for a stiff drink. He didn’t know where Phryne was, exactly, but Jack found that often times it was in his best interest (and beneficial to his sanity) when he did not know.

Nursing a tumbler of decent whiskey, he wondered what the rest of the night would bring. Would they return to Wardlow for a nightcap? Would he go home alone? Should he be bold and bring her to his cottage? Or would that be too presumptuous? She had been teasing him mercilessly just now. Granted, she had done so for as long as he’d known her, but never like _this_. This was almost an invitation, wasn't it?

“There you are.” Her bright voice came from behind him, before she appeared and nonchalantly flopped herself down in the leather armchair opposite his.

“Excellent sleuthing, Miss Fisher,” he complimented her with a small upturn of the corners of his mouth. He raised his glass in salute.

She quirked an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips in amusement at his cheek.

“Indeed. Guess what else I discovered, Inspector?” she goaded him.

“Please tell me it doesn’t involve a dead body.”

She tsked. “Don’t be crude. And no. Because of the heavy rainfall, the streets have flooded. Traffic has come to a complete halt.”

Phryne watched with both amusement and concern as several emotions waged a war in his eyes. They settled on ‘wary.’

She continued. “In short; we’re effectively stuck here for the night, Inspector.” She crossed her legs, the modest slit in her dress showing off quite a bit of leg regardless.

Jack had seen her legs before, even covered by far less fabric, but with the reality of the situation bearing down on him, the sight of her enticing, long limbs was almost too much. He quickly looked away.

Phryne smiled, briefly lowering her eyes.

Jack had yet to reply, and he hesitated visibly. He tilted his head at her.

“You can check outside if you don’t believe me, Jack,” she added haughtily, daring him to question the veracity of her story.

“That will not be necessary, Miss Fisher,” he said.

“Good,” she conceded, raising her eyes to meet his doubtful gaze. “And besides, I think we’ll share nicely.”

“And how would you know... wait, what do you mean, _share_?” he stammered.

“Well, there was only one room left, Jack,” she replied airily, as if this was no big deal at all.

He swallowed.

“I see.” Jack downed the remainder of his whiskey in one go, making a face as the alcohol burned his throat. He had, contrary to her belief, noticed the heavy downpour as he’d moved into the lounge. He was still a detective, for crying out loud. However, he suspected that she - being a force of nature herself - must have conspired with the elements to make this happen.

He wasn’t sure if he was excited by the prospect of sharing a room with her. Sharing a room would be one thing, but sharing a bed… He wanted to make love to her, long and languidly. Slow and close. But he was nervous. And scared.

“Well, seeing how one of us has an early morning, I think I shall retire, Miss Fisher,” he said, placing his hands on his knees and getting ready to leave. Maybe, if he got to the room before she did, he could be out cold by the time she’d slip into bed with him.

 _She_ was going to be in the bed with him.

In the bed.

With _him_.

“Oh, I’ll come along, Jack,” she said, and she grabbed her purse off the floor.

“Don't feel obligated on my behalf. If you wish to remain here a little longer, I see no problem with...”

“Aha! But you forget, Inspector...” She smirked mischievously, then fished a key out of her decolletage, before dropping it back in. She waggled her eyebrows at him. “... that _I_ have the key.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at her, but there was a flicker of amusement that briefly passed over his face.

“ _You_ do not play _fair_ , Miss Fisher,” he whispered in a low voice, leaning in.

“Jack,” she pouted, inwardly cheering when his eyes immediately dropped to her lips, if only for a second or two. “You’d be disappointed if I did.”

At that, the skin around his cloudy eyes crinkled in a smile.

“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Fisher,” the young bartender said as Jack stood up.

Phryne let out a loud guffaw as she caught the incredulous expression on Jack’s face.

The bartender looked confused, even though he tried to school his features into a neutral, hospitable expression immediately.

“Thank you, sir. I’m sure he will!” Phryne said, then tipped the poor, perplexed boy graciously before she resolutely steered Jack out of the lounge. She could sense the barrage of protests coming her way, so she did the one thing she knew would shut Jack up.

She placed a possessive hand on the swell of his arse on their way out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT; I posted chapter 8 as well ❤️


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE BONUS CHAPTER! Thanks for all the sweet, impatient comments ❤️ (Make sure you read chapter 7 before reading this, as I posted two chapters in one day.)

 

“What was that all about?” Jack hissed between clenched teeth as they walked up the stairs of the hotel, the plush red carpet soft underneath their shoes. He was desperately trying to ignore the fact that her hand still lay heavily on his lower back, after he had moved it upwards. Her entire side was pressed up against his and he could only assume she was trying to convince people of their married status. (Also, this was Phryne, so she was probably taking advantage of the situation as well.)

The problem with that being that a certain part of his anatomy was quite willing to find out if this charade extended to other marital privileges.

_Dear God, why was she so soft?_

“Well, the room was booked under my name. I have never seen this young gentleman before… he must have seen the name on the drinks tab and probably just assumed… well. You’re not offended, are you, Jack?” she asked kindly.

“Not offended, no. Merely… surprised,” he mused, then fell silent.

She was surprised herself. Before she’d started developing feelings for Jack, she’d always made damn sure that people knew the men she went out with were decidedly _not_ her husband. But with Jack… with Jack, she wanted to ensure he felt comfortable and safe before seeing to her own needs. If that meant strangers thought he was her husband because propriety demanded it, she was surprisingly okay with that.

Phryne knew, deep down in her heart, that Jack would never claim her. Would never ask anything from her that would involve her giving up her freedom in any way. He would not cage her, would not hold her back. He would allow her to fly, free as a bird, soaring to great heights. And it would feel safe to do so, because he would be right there to catch her if she were to fall.

He wanted her to spread her wings, but nowadays she found herself considering not flying too close to the sun. Just in case. It was almost as if, because he did not make any demands about wanting to be with her, she wanted to be with him even more. She did not want to change for him, and she knew he’d never ask her to change. But he did make her want to be a better person.

It was a terrifyingly beautiful thing, being in love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today. I think.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite detective duo manages to locate their room.

 

“Miss Fisher,” Jack sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “I need the key, or we’re going to be out here all night.”

“You know where it is, Inspector.”

“Just hand it over.”

“I think you should investigate the matter.”

“And _I_ think this case has already been solved, so just show me the evidence.”

“All of it?”

“Miss _Fisher_ ,” he hissed, scandalised. They were still in a public corridor.

“Fine, Jack, but you’re no fun.”

Usually, the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher and Detective Inspector Jack Robinson could be seen conversing (or arguing) as they entered or exited a room. But as Phryne turned the key in the lock and opened the door to _their_ room, they were silent. Even Phryne, who had been known to joke to lighten a tense situation, did not speak. It was as if, now that they were actually going to share a room, and a bed, they both were unsure of what was about to happen next.

Or, more accurately, who was supposed to take the lead. They often fought for dominance, but with neither willing to force the other into doing something they weren’t ready for, they reached an awkward impasse that stretched.

When no immediate ravishing appeared to be in the cards for them, Phryne cleared her throat as Jack looked around the room. It was a decent sized room, with light curtains and a rather bland colour scheme. It wasn’t as luxurious as her usual suite, but it had a nice marble bathroom, and a large bed with satin sheets. It would do just fine.

“Jack?” He turned his head sideways to indicate he was listening. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?” she asked as she took off her heels. The carpet was lovely and soft against her stockinged feet.

“No, no, go ahead. Ladies first,” he replied.

Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips at his back, before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She felt a little wrong-footed. Usually, her bed partners were more than ready to tear her clothes off. It would only stand to reason that Jack wasn’t like those other men, but this was just bloody stupid. She knew he was a patient man, but over dinner she had hoped to have reached his limit.

Apparently not.

A little annoyed and more than a little frustrated from pent-up arousal that had been coursing through her veins all evening, she reached for the toiletries the hotel had graciously supplied. She removed her make-up to the best of her ability, making sure she didn’t resemble a raccoon, then washed her face with the soap that was provided. Obviously she hadn’t packed sleepwear for this little jaunt - and Mr. Grump in there was just going to have to deal with that - but she’d inserted her diaphragm before Jack had arrived earlier this evening. Just in case. A girl could hope… and dream…

Speaking of dreaming, the bathroom only had a shower. Phryne could just imagine taking a hot shower in the morning. She wondered if Jack would object if she were to surprise him while he took his shower. Would he startle? Send her away? Or would he let her in? She would love to hear him beg, sinking down to her knees so she could take his cock into her waiting mouth.

The amount of time she’d spent fantasizing about Jack Robinson’s penis, without actually seeing it, or touching it, or taking it inside her, was almost ridiculous.

When she exited the bathroom, Jack was just in the process of closing the heavy curtains.

“Bathroom’s free, if you need to use it,” she informed him, and he nodded. “I had reception call Dot. She promised me she’d tell Hugh, just in case the streets are still flooded in the morning.”

Jack tensed, panic clearly visible in his eyes, even though only one of the bedside lamps was on.

“You told Collins? About…?”

She sighed.

“Technically, no. Dot will.” She sensed his immediate discomfort. “Oh, and don’t _worry_. I told Dot that I got us two rooms. No need to frazzle your tender sensibilities,” she snapped.

She knew she was being unreasonable. This wasn’t at all how she’d hoped the evening would turn out. Frustrated, she started pulling on her fascinator with more force than was strictly necessary and placed it on the nightstand. She winced as she pulled out a couple of hairs.

Jack muttered something to himself and was about to speak when he noticed Phryne was starting to disrobe. He barely remembered to close his mouth before he turned his back to her.

“Uhm… I can sleep in the chair, Miss Fisher,” he offered, closing his eyes when he heard what he assumed had to be her dress drop to the floor.

She let out an annoyed huff.

“Back to that, are we? Honestly, Jack.”

He turned around to face her. She’d taken off her dress and Jack was greeted by the sight of Phryne Fisher standing in a black silk slip that barely reached mid-thigh. And those thighs, that creamy skin... Her legs were still encased in gossamer stockings, and he assumed there had to be a garter belt up there somewhere. She stared back at him, unabashed in her state of undress and he felt almost intimidated by the strength she exuded.

He knew he was becoming aroused by the sight of her as she moved around to place her dress on a chair. Her nipples were clearly puckered underneath the shiny material. For the first time since knowing her, he did not hide the effect she had on his body. On him. It would be a moot point now.

“Phryne,” he started, releasing a breath. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” he confessed.

“Oh, but I’m _very_ comfortable, Jack,” she purred as she sat down in the centre of the bed on her knees, stroking the soft satin sheets. Sarcelle truly hadn’t done her beauty justice. That glow, that spark of life, could not be captured in brush strokes of oil paint. “However, I think _you_ should make yourself a little more comfortable, too,” she said, and she pointed in the general direction of his person, a challenge in her eyes.

“And how do you suggest I do that, Miss Fisher?”

She chuckled. Despite the fact that she could see the fabric of his trousers tenting slightly, she was still Miss Fisher to him. He looked as though he was fighting a war with his own body, and was rapidly losing it. Phryne loved seeing him like this. Regardless of his current insecurities, Jack still emanated a certain confidence, an effortlessness. He really was beautiful.

“You're a resourceful man, Inspector. I'm sure that brilliant mind of yours can come up with something,” she goaded him, and something inside of him snapped. It wasn’t a harsh decision, more like a gentle wave of determination that came over him.

Phryne observed Jack as he started to take off his clothes. First came the jacket, and then his tie. She could have sworn he was deliberately teasing her as he slipped the material out of the knot, taking his time. The shoes were next, and his socks, and as he bent down she licked her lips when he gave her a wonderful view of that toned arse. His waistcoat came off next, and he started to remove his cufflinks and place them in his trouser pocket.

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then looked up at her as if silently asking her for permission.

Her cunt throbbed almost desperately when she saw the want displayed in his eyes, mixed with fear.

_Dear man_. As if he could ever disappoint her.

“Those as well, Jack,” she said as she pointed to his shirt and trousers. She was surprised when her voice croaked, the sound husky and vulnerable with emotion.

He started unbuttoning the final layers, the last vestiges of his defense. He folded those as well and placed them on the chair.

Her mouth went dry as he straightened up.

“A union suit? Jack, really?” she managed to ask, but her voice sounded almost foreign to her own ears.

What Jack didn’t know was that Phryne Fisher was desperately trying to feign indifference at his appearance, but was failing miserably. She’d never in her life considered a union suit to look attractive or appealing before, but on Jack Robinson… Then again, he was making her experience and feel a lot of firsts, so why should this have been any different? Dear _God_ , were they always this _tight_? She honestly couldn't remember.

And quite rightfully, who could blame her? Jack Robinson, underneath all of his buttoned up layers, was a very fit man. Phryne took in the way the light material clung to his frame. His toned arms, the broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the obvious pectoral muscles. His thighs were thick and she longed to run her hands all over them. She could tell the muscles of his abdomen lead to a pronounced V, where the outline of his cock was clearly visible. It was half-hard already, and Phryne was suddenly overcome by the need to taste him.

He wasn’t exactly the size he’d teased her with earlier that week, when he’d handed her a rather large zucchini, but nevertheless it appeared Jack Robinson was on the right side of the spectrum when it came to size, indeed.

“It’s _cold_ , Miss Fisher,” Jack said, and she raised her eyes to focus on his face. He smirked, noticing where her eyes had been, and she could feel herself become even more wet. Phryne couldn’t disagree more if she would have tried. _Cold_? She was feeling positively _inflamed_.

He paused, then gave her a suspicious glance, brow furrowed. “Didn't you say _you_ were the one who had undressed me the other night? So why the surprise?”

_Damn that clever man!_

“Well, I did… partially,” she confessed. Jack raised a questioning eyebrow, silently urging her on. “I took off your jacket and shoes, then left the rest to Mr. Butler. I’m a very gallant and _honourable_ lady, Inspector.” She kneeled provocatively on the bed, her slip riding up dangerously high on her thighs, exposing her underwear. “Such a _filthy_ mind you have.”

Even though he glared at her, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and she could tell the tips of his ears were burning.

“I’m not the one who is ordering people to undress.”

“I did not _order_ you to do anything, Jack. I merely _suggested_ you make yourself comfortable. If you took that as a hint to start taking off your clothes, _well..._ ” she teased.

“Miss Fisher,” he growled in warning.

“Yes, Jack?” she asked innocently.

When he raised his chin, either in defiance or in an unintended request for her to come closer, she started moving towards him.

Jack was reminded of a cat, the way she crawled on the bed on all fours. Her delicious arse swayed in the air, the hem of her slip barely covering it. He could see her breasts as they moved underneath the fabric, unbound, and the amount of bare flesh on display made his mouth water. When she got to the edge of the bed, she sat up on her knees. He could have sworn he could smell her scent, her arousal heady and addictive.

“All these buttons, Jack Robinson,” she breathed, looking up at him so he could see the sincerity in her eyes. “Many’s the time I've thought about unbuttoning them,” she admitted.

“You have?” He choked on a gasp as she traced a finger along the row of buttons that ran down the front of his union suit, stopping just above his cock. He could feel himself swell even more and he groaned quietly.

" _Mmm_ , yes,” she purred, and she leaned in to cup his arse in her hands. It was firm, and she could feel his gluteal muscles as they tensed under her ministrations. She brushed her breasts against his abdomen, and this time he groaned out loud, grabbing onto her shoulders.

Moving her hands to the front, her nimble fingers impatiently started unbuttoning his union suit. She started with the bottommost button, and intentionally brushed against his hardening length.

Jack inhaled sharply.

“Aren't you starting at the wrong end?” he growled, and his voice was low and raspy, hoarse with desire. If he kept this up, she was sure she was going to come from the sound of his voice alone. His large palms squeezed her shoulders.

She looked up at him again, and even though there was still a bit of doubt, his eyes were burning with liquid fire. She gave him a wicked smile in return.

“Not for what I have in mind.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack Robinson is a lucky bastard.

 

As Jack looked down, his chin close to his chest, he found himself completely enthralled by the sight of Phryne Fisher, sitting on her knees on the bed in front of him and drawing his erection out of his union suit. It was a very surreal moment, and it was only because of the fact that she stroked him once that he didn’t have to pinch himself. He moaned softly instead, embarrassed by his body’s immediate and strong response to her touch. She sighed, almost in reverence, at the sight of his arousal, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that, but hoped it was a good thing.

Rosie had never really been one for touching him… ‘down there.’ He’d never dared to ask why not, and at some point he supposed it had ceased to matter. Phryne, on the other hand, was breathing heavily, a flush adorning her cheeks as though the mere sight of him was appealing to her. He hadn’t even touched her, had not done anything, and already she appeared to be… aroused?

He was surprised that she hadn’t undressed him any further, but he wasn’t going to argue the point, especially now that she had also managed to free his testicles from their confinement and was gently cupping them, as if weighing them in her hand. She appeared to be exploring him, and he found the contrast between her pale hand and his almost angry, red-purplish flesh fascinating.

How many times had he taken himself in hand, imagining it was her hand, her mouth, her wet and womanly heat instead? He had felt ashamed, debauched, and morally corrupt. For some of that time, he’d technically still been married, but that hadn’t stopped him on particularly lonely nights, as he’d desperately stroked himself to thoughts of her red lips, her pert breasts, that voluptuous derrière...

He didn’t feel any type of shame now, only a strange sense of liberation, of freedom, as she languidly started stroking the vein on the underside of his swollen penis.

“Is this really what you want, Jack?” Her husky voice cut through the silence in the room, save for their laboured breathing.

He barked out an incredulous laugh, and she could feel the shaking of his body. It felt delightfully intimate.

“You’re asking me this _now_?” he whispered, groaning when she caressed his balls.

“Yes. I mean, I can _see_ that you want me,” she said, and he could hear the smug smirk in her voice.

Despite the fact that she was touching his erect cock, Jack blushed at her remark. He nodded. There really was no point in denying that, now was there?

“But do you want _me_ , Jack Robinson? Do you want to be with _me_?” she asked, her voice serious as she looked up at him.

“I do,” he confessed, his voice reduced to nothing more than a breathy whisper as he gently stroked her hair. What had he done to deserve such a wonderful, beautiful, insufferable woman?

“Because I need you to know that I cannot promise you forever, Jack,” she said softly. She took a deep breath, then looked away. “But this thing between us, it means more to me than anything else in the world.”

Jack had difficulty focusing on what she was saying, because he was pretty sure his heart had just exploded.

“Phryne,” he breathed, gently tilting her head up with his fingers under her chin. He lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I will want you always. Your body, your spirit, your kindness, your _insufferable_ teases.”

She leaned into his touch, a smile so adoring on her face he worried his heart would burst a second time.

“I want you now, tomorrow. Always. I don’t know how long this will last, but I want you to know that I lo--”

Jack lost all ability to speak because at that moment, her warm, tight, wet mouth enveloped the tip of his cock. He groaned long and low when she dipped her tongue into his slit to taste his precum, and he knew for a fact that he must have alerted at least half of their floor to what they were up to. But for the first time in his life, Jack Robinson decided there were more important things to worry about than propriety. For example, the woman who was currently… sucking ...

Jack had had the pleasure of experiencing oral sex before. Not often, but he knew what it felt like to have a woman using her mouth on him. It had always felt _good_ , but never had it felt quite like _this_.

One of her arms reached around him to hold onto his lower back. Her short fingernails dug into his skin through the union suit, and Jack realised he didn’t mind the slight pain he felt. If anything, it added to the sensations she was pulling - quite literally - from his cock as she sucked on his tip. He closed his eyes against the onslaught, suddenly quite overcome. Her other hand was stroking him in time with her hot mouth. Her fingers tightened around him when she took him in all the way, then pulled off almost completely to suck his head.

He growled deep in his throat, then looked down. On her knees in front of him was the not-so-Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, mouth open wide, and she was almost furiously bobbing her head up and down on his hard length. Before he realised what he was doing, he was pushing her hair behind her ear so he could see better.

“Oh _fuck_ , that’s so good,” he grunted when he felt her tongue circling him. Phryne moaned around his shaft when she heard him curse, and the vibrations along his cock made him swell even more.

He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, having denied himself the pleasures of the flesh for almost three years. He was desperately trying to keep himself from thrusting into the wet, hot wickedness of her mouth. His hips were straining with the effort of holding back, and he could feel his buttcheeks clenching and unclenching. Jack knew he was close.

Phryne suddenly released his saliva-drenched cock from her mouth, and he whimpered at the loss. When she met his eyes, her chest was tinged with a flush of arousal and he could actually _smell_ her. It was a musky scent and his mouth immediately watered. He startled when he realised he’d actually smelled it before, when she’d sat on top of his desk. Beads of precum formed on his cockhead, and she smirked so filthily that Jack considered it a miracle he didn't come all over her chest right then.

“It’s okay, Jack,” she said breathlessly, voice raspy. “You can move.”

Her pupils were dilated and her lips were swollen. Jack let out a guttural groan at the sight she made, and her nostrils flared.

“Gods, Jack,” she breathed as she continued to stroke him almost roughly, desperately. “I wish you could see how beautiful you are,” she panted raggedly. She sucked him back between her lips with a wet sound and he cried out. Phryne hummed her pleasure at his desperation and then took him into her mouth as deep as she could.

All thoughts fled from his mind as Jack could now only focus on the heat that enveloped him, threatening to pull him under and drown him in liquid fire. His fingers inadvertently tangled in her hair and clenched every time she moved, every time he shallowly thrust his hips. As she swallowed, he bumped the back of her throat and _God this felt so good_. All he cared about now was going deeper, harder, further into her squeezing, sucking mouth.

“Phryne,” he warned, a husky, raspy sound all he could manage. “Phryne, oh _fuck_ , Phryne! I’m going to come...” His groan was dark and desperate, and echoed off the walls of the bedroom.

Phryne met his eyes, gave another slick swivel of her tongue along the head of his cock, and Jack came with a strangled cry. A burst of lightning moved up his spine, set his frame on fire and exploded through his cock as hot jets of his release hit the back of her throat. She swallowed him down greedily, then slowed her movements until he was able to breathe again.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately, Jack Robinson is also a gentleman and more than willing to return certain favours.
> 
> Phryne is feeling inspired... one might almost suspect she had a look at certain gifs?

 

When Phryne noticed Jack was coming back down to earth, she released him and laid down on the bed. As she supported herself on her elbows, knees bent, she watched him as he regained control of his body. He’d been marvellous and she could still feel the slight tickle of the coarse, wiry hairs at the base of his cock, smell him in the air and taste him on her tongue. It wasn’t an unpleasant taste… It was just right. Phryne knew some men preferred to not finish in a woman’s mouth, but she’d been pleased to discover her Inspector was perhaps a little more uninhibited than she’d originally thought.

Her cunt throbbed violently, almost painfully at the memory of the sound of his desperate groans. She knew it would take very little effort on his behalf to make her come. But still… he was going to have to work for it. She suddenly realised she had no idea if Jack would be comfortable performing oral sex, but decided there was only one way to find out.

When Jack opened his eyes, she noted they were trying to focus and settled on her body. She squirmed under his intense scrutiny. His cock - not entirely spent yet, from the looks of things - was hanging out of his union suit, which was still buttoned. Well, for the most part, anyway.

He moved towards the bed and made to crawl over her, placing his knee on the mattress, but she stopped him by pushing him away with a stockinged foot on his chest.

His brow furrowed in confusion.

“Take that off, Jack,” she purred at him.

With a slight inclination of his head, Jack gave her a shy smile and her heart soared. His large hands reached for the small buttons, and he quickly started to unbutton them, eager to join her on the bed.

“Slowly,” she instructed, and when he looked up to raise an eyebrow at her, she matched it with one of her own.

He did not break eye contact when his fingers reached for the third button. As he loosened it, and the next, his chest was exposed. Those pectoral muscles she’d been drooling over earlier were now on display, and they were covered in a light dusting of golden brown chest hair. As he continued to unbutton the union suit, Phryne could feel something twist inside of her gut.

She was going to steal all of his suits and hide them from him, because keeping this body from her was just inexcusable and the situation had to be remedied as soon as possible. And as often as possible, too.

One of her hands came up to cup her breast through the silk of her undergarments, pinching her nipple when he pushed the final button through the hole. A strip of skin, from neck to cock, was exposed to her hungry gaze. She tugged at her nipple, the sharp pain-pleasure going directly to her cunt, and she moaned softly.

“What’s next?” Jack asked, voice hoarse and tight with desire, nostrils flaring as he looked at her. He was shaking visibly, trying to control himself and barely succeeding. It made the fire inside of her belly flare even more. Jack Robinson, on the verge of losing that carefully cultivated control… it was most arousing.

“One side, Jack.”

As he peeled one side of the union suit off of his shoulder, he exposed a toned hip and part of the muscular V that pointed down towards his groin. There was a trail of coarse hair that started just below his belly button and lead down to where his half-hard cock rested in a nest of pubic hair. One of his nipples was on display; it was dark brown, puckered and she wanted to bite it. She had to stop herself from drooling, and instead moved her hand down past her sternum and abdomen before coming to rest on the gusset of her underwear. She started to rub herself slowly through the silk of her knickers, and the friction the material provided made her dizzy.

“That’s so hot, Phryne,” Jack growled. “May I touch you?” he asked, taking a step towards the bed.

“Not yet. The other side, first,” she ordered. She flicked a fingernail against her clit and gasped. Her toes curled into the satin sheets. She closed her eyes, threw her head back and started rubbing herself frantically.

When she moved her underwear to the side to gain better access, Jack forgot all about her instructions or his inadvertent striptease and removed the union suit as fast as he could. Within seconds he was on his knees at the foot of the bed, had grabbed hold of her thighs and was pulling her to the edge of the bed. She let out an undignified, but delighted squeal at his rough manhandling. She ceased to protest, however, when he unapologetically reached up and released two tiny buttons to remove her underwear, baring her to his hungry gaze.

Undoing the clasps of her stockings, he slid both garments down her legs. He raised her legs and let them rest on his broad shoulders, before leaning in.

“Let me,” he breathed against her exposed sex, batting her hand away. Phryne had no idea what had come over him, but was more than willing to find out. At the very least, Jack didn’t seem at all adverse to the idea of getting up close and personal, which was good. Very good.

_Oh, that felt good._

He took his time exploring her, but there was an edge to his touch, an impatience that made her even more wet. He used those marvellous long fingers, his tongue and teeth to tease her belly, the insides of her thighs and even her rear. She squirmed and writhed on the bed, shaking, wanting his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Anything.

“Jack… now, please,” she begged.

“Patience, Miss Fisher,” came his stern voice from between her legs, and the fact that he was using his ‘Inspector Robinson’ voice whilst talking into her cunt made her giggle.

“I’ll show you patie... _ah_! Oh _God_ … yesss, Jack...”

Phryne moaned when he pressed his tongue to her hot folds, and she was everything he had imagined her to be; loud, unbridled, passionate and _oh so wet._ He was overwhelmed by her flavour as he tasted her for the first time. His tongue lapped at her enthusiastically. Using his fingers, he opened her up for his mouth, and used the other hand to gently stroke her in tandem with his tongue. He groaned into her cunt when he could feel her getting even wetter.

“So good,” she praised him, and it was true. She shuddered when he pressed his pointed tongue against her clit, then lightly flicked it. Her hips raised up, and he moved the hand that had been opening her up to her abdomen, pushing her back down as it lay splayed across her belly. Left with no other options to move, Phryne opened her thighs even further to allow him even better access, silently pleading with him to enter her body someway, somehow.

Jack flattened his tongue against her slick sex, using the flat top of his tongue to lick at her opening, from the bottom of her slit up to her clit. He paused there to circle it, maddening circles that made her moan and thrash. She worried that she was going to rip the sheets if he continued, and she barely resisted the urge to pull on his hair. As he fucked her with his tongue, he gently inserted a finger into her and she cried out with surprise, relief. Dragging it in and out, he added a second finger and started pushing on the sweet, spongy spot inside of her body.

Phryne groaned, reaching up to cup her breasts and pull at her nipples, pleasure shooting straight to her core as she could start to feel herself climbing higher and higher.

“ _Mmm_ , Jack… so close,” she panted, and he started pushing his fingers into her harder, adding a third when she felt close to shattering.

Jack finger-fucked her as roughly as he dared. He'd pleasured women thusly before, but not one had been so responsive. Not one had been so wild, and wet, and _dear God_ he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the taste of her. He wanted to lap at her dewy fountain until the end of times, because who needed sustenance and oxygen when they could have this?

Phryne panted, breathing hard as Jack pushed his fingers into her as deep as they could go. She was so _close_ , she just needed… needed… Jack softly scraped his teeth across her clit and she came with a wail that she made no attempt to muffle. She screamed at the top of her lungs, an anguished cry that might have been his name. Her muscles clamped down on his fingers, until the waves of her orgasm slowly started to subside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final instalment tomorrow!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final instalment is here! I hope you guys will enjoy it ❤️

 

Jack stroked Phryne through the final tremors of her climax. Her thighs still twitched spasmodically every now and then, but other than that, she looked like a woman who had just experienced thorough pleasure. At his hands. Jack was quite amazed that he’d been able to please the sensual Phryne Fisher. He knew she had far more experience, more knowledge when it came to matters of the boudoir. But he was very willing to learn… with her hand… and mouth… and cunt, to guide him.

Gently grabbing hold of the hand that was still stroking her sex, she removed it when she became too tender and kissed it softly. His fingers were sticky with her juices and she revelled in the sensation. The loving look in his eyes made her heart melt all over again.

She pulled him up onto the bed with her, finally, then took off her garter belt and slip to lay down next to him.

Laying on their sides, facing one another, Jack leaned in to kiss her. Despite what they had just done, kissing her somehow felt even more intimate than any kind of sexual act. He could taste their combined flavours on her tongue and it was a novel experience for him. He kissed her almost gently, sweetly, tenderly, pouring all of his feelings for her into their kiss.

“God, Jack. Where did you learn that?” she asked breathlessly when their lips parted, referring to his obvious skill at pleasing a woman.

“Allow me just a few secrets, Miss Fisher.”

“You really are a man of many mysteries,” she purred, raking a hand through his unruly curls and his eyes smiled back at her.

“As long as you don’t solve all of them,” he joked.

“I can’t make any promises, Jack. I’m _very_ skilled,” Phryne breathed as her hand moved down his torso to nudge his rapidly hardening cock.

On a groan, Jack captured her waiting lips with his mouth. Phryne sighed against his lips, then started kissing him back. Their hands roamed: pulling softly at hair, kneading a supple breast, teasing a pert nipple, stroking a hip. Their touches became more frantic, pushing and pulling as their bodies started undulating, moving in a rhythm as old as time and when Jack lifted her thigh over his, his cock nudged her drenched folds at last, its broad head nestling gently against her.

She gasped into his mouth, and he tore his lips away from her to watch as she grabbed hold of his erection to align him with her body. They moaned in unison when he pushed, and entered her. Jack could feel the way her body accommodated him, how her sensitive tissues stretched to take him all in. He pulled her close, holding still for just a moment to savour the feeling of being joined with her in the most intimate of ways, before the need to move became too great. They rocked together, slowly at first. Phryne groaned in his ear and it was the sexiest thing Jack had ever heard.

When she rolled onto her back, he moved with her but slipped out of her warm body. She smiled and welcomed him into her embrace. Supporting himself on his muscled arms, he held himself over her as she spread her thighs and canted her hips towards him. He teased her, rubbing his cockhead against her folds, increasing the pressure on her clit until she whimpered and lifted her hips to take him in fully.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto his shoulders, and she lifted her legs, locking her feet behind his arse to keep him close. He kissed her again, pushing his tongue into her mouth and mimicking the movements of his hips as he thrust deep inside. Her back arched, her breasts brushed against his damp chest, his tongue was hot in her mouth and his rigid cock was stroking her so hard, and so deep. Jack was everywhere and she never wanted it to end.

When he changed the angle of his thrusts to brush against her clit, he sensed the change immediately. Her muscles started clamping down on him and her kisses became sloppy, until they were only shaky breaths against his lips. The tiny sobs and whimpers that escaped her mouth drove him mad, and when she embedded her nails into the skin of his back, he groaned into the crook of her neck, dropping down to his elbows. His hips undulated against her in deep, long strokes, his testes slapped against her arse, and when he bent down to suck a pink nipple into his mouth, she cried out.

“Jack! Oh God, please,” she begged, not even sure what she was asking for but she needed something. Needed more, harder, faster, even deeper.

Sitting up on his knees, he grabbed her legs and pushed them back, marvelling at her flexibility. Leaning over her and interlacing her fingers with his, he guided her arms into a pose of surrender above her head, before he started pounding his hips into her.

She moaned and shrieked so loudly, he worried he was hurting her, but she was only encouraging him by pushing her hips back against him and panting incoherently. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room, and she was squeezing him so tightly he was sure he was going to burst.

With a final push, Phryne’s back arched off of the mattress as crisis swept through her, her mouth open in a silent cry, eyes squeezed tightly shut. It took two more thrusts into her quivering, pulsating body before Jack let go with a hoarse shout, spilling himself inside of her.

 

***

 

As their breathing evened out, Phryne softly pushed against Jack’s chest. He was very warm, and smelled of man, and sex, and Jack. It was delicious. But he was also rather heavy, and she decided he needed to move.

Jack muttered something unintelligible, then gently extracted himself from her embrace as he slipped out of her body with a wet sound. He smiled meekly as he laid himself down beside her.

Together, they managed to get under the covers. She snuggled closer immediately, and he pulled her into his warm embrace, holding her close to his chest. She traced nonsensical patterns on his skin, and when he chuckled, she looked up into his deep blue eyes.

“Not even your fingers will get me going again, Miss Fisher,” he grinned, looking deeply sated and relaxed. It was her new favourite look on him.

“Well… we’ll see about that in the morning,” she sassed, and his hand cupped her arse in reprimand. She moaned, then rubbed her sticky thighs together. She was a bit sore - Jack was rather well-endowed and she had been overcome by the need to feel him deep, to have him so close. She’d hardly ever felt the desire for such a complete connection. Not since...

“Phryne,” he whispered gently. “Where did you wander off to?” he asked, and as he stroked her hair, her breath caught.

“Jack,” she started, then fear took a firm hold of her vocal chords. She tried again. “Jack, I… damn it.”

“I know,” he said, and he smiled.

Her heart fluttered. She furrowed her brow in frustration. She could do this.

“I just… I don’t...” She took a deep breath. “I just want to be with you, Jack.”

Jack stopped smiling and for a second, she panicked and feared she’d done something horribly wrong. Then, he released a breath, and his blue eyes lit up with joy.

“That...” he started. “That’s good. Me too.” He shook his head. “I mean… I want to be with you too, Phryne.”

“Good,” she sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around her. “That’s settled, then.”

He chuckled.

They were quiet for a while, enjoying the sound of each other’s breathing, the rhythmic rising and falling of chests, limbs entwined, her hand over his heart.

“So does this mean I get to drive the Hispano-Suiza?”

Phryne playfully slapped his chest, and he caught her wrist. The look in his eyes was one of mischief, and Phryne was of the opinion it really shouldn’t be legal to look this good.

“Well, we'll have to see about that, _Mr. Fisher_ ,” she goaded him.

“Don't push your luck, Miss Fisher,” he growled, pulling her on top of him.

“ _Miss_? Oh, how scandalous!” She wiggled her derrière against his - to her delight - hardening length.

“I'll show you scandalous,” he threatened, then proceeded to shut her up the best way he knew how.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the sweet comments, kudos and impatient encouragements; it was fun ❤️


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